Disclaimers: These are my characters, all mine, even
if they bear a striking resemblance to a certain warrior and bard. Sorry MCA/Universal
you should know by now that I can't resist. But, so ya know, in no way do
I make money from this. It's just my own sick, twisted fun.

Sex/Violence: Lots. More then the usual eps of Xena,
and more then my usual stories. This is a tough city, a tough neighborhood
where just about anything does and will happen. This story depicts love between
two members of the same sex, so if this is illegal or offensive, read elsewhere.
This story also depicts an act of rape, but no graphic sex scenes. Sorry folks,
just not my style.

Anything else? Don't know about that yet. Guess this
story has an R rating because of the violence and potty mouth language. Um,
that'd be all now. Go ahead and read. Delve into my twisted mind, if you dare!
:)

Chapter Eight

Flight or Fight

Shane's room was far from quiet, bathed in the
eerie Neon glow of street lights and beer signs. A baby was crying upstairs,
someone was thumping something down the stairs and someone was yelling. Through
the open window came the sound of barking dogs, cars, squealing tires and
the occasional police siren.

Pale blue eyes regarded the peeling ceiling.
She traced the lines of a water leak from one end of the room to the next.

A headache pounded across her temples. Shane
never got headaches. She tossed and turned on the double bed, unable to sleep.

She rolled onto her stomach and buried her head
under the pillow to drown out the lights and noises. It didn't help.

Get up and do something... dad sure as hell
won't notice. Shane jumped up from the bed, tossing the pillow onto the
floor as she went. Grabbing her jeans and boots she tossed them on and headed
out of her room and out of the apartment.

As she walked down the dilapidated stairs and
through the warped front door the thought came to her that she had no idea
where she was going.

I could gather the posse, half of them are
probably already out partying.... But she realized that she didn't want
to see any of them right now. Undecided, she sat on the Harley, letting the
city surround her.

Shane lit a cigarette and watched the hazy smoke
drift up towards the streetlight as someone rushed past on a skateboard, jumping
over the curb and two boys followed, laughing. Cars rushed past, even at this
late hour.

Italian, Greek, Irish, BBQ... mingled through
the neighborhoods, fast food and homecooked. A whiff of garbage and sewage
came and left. Shane wrinkled her nose then straightened her leather jacket
and revved the Harley to life.

She tossed the cigarette into the litter on
the side of the street and took off, pushing the bike to thirty, then forty
and fifty as she roared down the empty alleys and parking lots she'd known
since childhood. She could travel these places blindfolded.

After speeding through the bank parking lot
she shot down a main avenue, through two red lights and down another back
alley to the 'Stop n Shop.'

Pent up energy and adrenaline coursing through
her body Shane pushed open the door. The little bell jingled, singling her
arrival. The Puerto Rican boy glanced up from behind the counter then went
back to reading his Superman comic.

It hasn't changed much, Shane thought
numbly as she took in the store. A new rotating metal shelf held postcards.
A sign behind the register said; "No more then 50 dollars cash in the register.
Safety Drop Box." A sign below it toted a new security system. The only other
thing different was the boy behind the counter.

The night Charley died that stupid stubborn
old man had been sitting in the boy's place.

"Put your hands where I can see them! Don't
even make me think you want to touch that fucking alarm under the counter,"
Jynx hissed loudly and waved her pistol wildly at the old man's head.

Shane stood off to Jynx's right side and a
little behind her, bags for the money in her hands.

"Take the money out of the cash register,"
Jynx instructed the old man and Shane stepped forward to gather it up.

"No," the old man's hands dipped beneath the
counter top. "Get the fuck out of my store, you punks!"

"Don't you dare!" Jynx screamed, firing a
shot off behind the man's head and into the plaster wall.

He ducked beneath the counter and rose up
with a sawed off shotgun in his hands. His finger shook on the trigger.

"Goddamn, put that thing down," Jynx waved
the pistol in his face, "before I kill you."

"Jynx," Shane hissed, "let's just get the
hell out of here." Out of the corner of her eye she could see Jynx's wild
eyes and Cadence, Molly, Tish and Casey all stepping back, heading toward
the exit.

"No, we came here for a reason. And I want
the fucking money." She stared directly at Shane, her glance leaving the
old man for just a split second.

It was all the time he needed.

Shane heard the click and reacted instinctively,
tossing her hand up and knocking the sawed off barrel up into the ceiling.
The recoil sent the old man staggering a step backward, but she didn't loose
her grip.

Jynx was cursing. Molly was screaming to 'just
get the hell out before the police came' and the old man was struggling
to aim the gun at Shane.

The second shot buzzed past her ear. Shane
gave a sharp cry and ripped the gun from the old man's hands. "Case," she
ordered as she trained the shotgun between the old man's eyes, "get the
money. Cadence, stop the camera and get the surveillance tape." For a second
no one moved or breathed. "Now!"

Casey hurried behind the counter and stuffed
the bills into the brown paper bag while Cadence threw open the door to
the little upstairs security room and ripped the tape out of the recorder.

Shane's finger was stiff around the trigger
and the sudden, jerking movement jammed the trigger back. The shotgun went
off and Shane staggered backward under the force of the impact. The old
man's blood splattered her face and the front of her T-shirt. Shards of
bone and gray matter dripped down her jaw.

In a horrified haze Shane turned to the rest
of the posse, meeting their shocked gaze. Oh God, oh God, oh God... raced
through her mind. The cops... A noise startled her and she turned, swiveling
the shotgun around automatically.

Through a bloody veil of shock she pulled
the trigger, again.

C-charley?

The scene played itself out like a mini movie,
right there beside the counter of the 'Stop N Shop.' And like a commercial
the boy interrupted.

Pain so intense that it robbed Shane of breath
she turned quickly and raced out of the store as if the hounds of hell were
chasing her, trying to claim her darkened soul.

In the parking lot Shane jumped on the motorcycle
and took off. As she roared down the streets, tears ripping from her eyes
she struggled to see, to understand.

Why? Why? Why?

No answers came as she led the bike up onto
the freeway. Crisp, spring air, turned into tornado force by the speed of
the bike, whipped her dark hair around her face in a torrent of darkness that
matched her thoughts. What would happen if I just kept riding? If I laid
the bike down on the asphalt? If I took it to the bridge...

Tony's innocent face flashed before her eyes,
causing the bike to swerve dangerously. For some reason those green eyes begged
her to slow down and make it back in one piece.

Shane let up on the gas and took the next exit
off the freeway and back into the city of perpetual night.